


Remember When It Rains

by lcblip



Series: Prompts [3]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Betrayal, Bunny's past, Fearlings, M/M, Memories, Sad, War, end of the golden age, murderous pitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:17:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcblip/pseuds/lcblip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rain helps renew life in the Warren, but it makes Aster remember...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember When It Rains

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of dark, not too graphic, I hope.  
> From the Prompt: What are some things your OTP thinks about when it's raining?  
> Enjoy!

Jack was gone, spending the day with his believers in Burgess as Aster stood at one of his many windows. The rain fell, pelting the ground sending waves of peaceful white noise through his Warren. He’d always loved watching it storm. It was peaceful. The water brought renewed life to his haven, giving the flora and fauna the strength to grow. His eyes grew distant, and his ears drooped. Times like these were when he would remember. 

He’d served in the Pookan army during the fearling wars as one of the personal advisers to the great Golden General, Kozmotis Pitchiner. The two had become fast friends; both being as intelligent as they were. Aster told Kozmotis everything about Pooka culture; how they courted, proper etiquette between bucks and does, the strongest families in each clan, what, when, and how they would celebrate things, just everything. Koz soaked it all up like a sponge. The Golden General stayed for almost a year, but on the Pooka home world a single year was the equivalent to five on earth, and became a regular part of everyday life. The younglings had taken to calling him Fennel, for his strength. He had fully integrated the General into their culture. Kozmotis soon was considered a full-fledged Pooka. 

It was then that everything took a downward spiral. Kozmotis was asked by the Tsar himself to guard the Black Gate. The very prison that held the fearlings. Aster didn’t like the idea, and told his friends as much. Koz had just patted his furry shoulder and waved off his concern with a confident smile. The Pooka didn’t hear a word after the General’s departure for close to a year; his worry finally beginning to abate as he went along his duties. His sense of security did not last.

They came in the night. They always did. The moon was covered by low clouds, and their speed as they invaded made quick work of any fires they came across. He remembered the screams that woke him. He remembered the confusion and fear that slashed sharply though the air as he dashed to his Commanders trying to form order. 

He slashed and stabbed at every shadowy figure he came across; black blood stained his leather armor and matted his fur. The creature’s shrill screams rang in his ears as he fought. Others fought just as bravely, stabbing and hitting with all their might. Aster allowed himself a quick prideful glance at his cadets, fighting so valiantly against the darkness. His pride soon fell to panic as he watched a tidal wave of black rise above the village. Swirling masses danced and writhed; red eyes piercing as they swarmed. Aster remembered yelling to his men; to brace themselves, to keep fighting. 

The battle had been short. Heart wrenchingly so. He watched as his brothers and sisters in arms fell; some were killed, most were taken. They morphed into dark beings; husks of their former selves, now aligned with the fearling armies. It broke his heart to fight them, shattered it every time he thrust his blades into their chests. The scent ofsmoke, burning flesh and blood filled his nose and burned his eyes. The once great Golden army lay in charred ruins among the vast fields of his home: beautiful galleons set ablaze and torn apart by the deep space demons. 

Aster barely remembered the last ditch effort of a plan he and the elders had cultivated when they learned of the General’s orders to guard the Gate. They had approached him in secret, making him vow to keep the plan to himself. They told him, above all else, that the First Light had to be kept safe and away from the dark claws of their enemies. He had humbly agreed to protect it, leading him to run for the caverns to retrieve it now. 

Mud squelched as he ran and low branches clawed at his face and arms. His long strides rocketing him through the remnants of remaining skirmishes as he dodged, jumping, turning and twisting his way around dark figures; growling at himself as he ignored calls and pleas for help. The caverns glowed dimly with bioluminescent moss that clung to its ceiling, brightening his path. He climbed over jagged rocks, cutting his hands, arms, legs and feet in his haste to reach the pit. 

The Light resided in a single small crystal. For eons he’d always wondered how the elders had managed to capture such power in such a tiny object, but now was not the time to let the scholar in him out. Now was a time for survival. Aster quickly, but gently, scooped up the tiny glowing beacon of hope and stashed it in a secret pocket of his bandolier before dashing back out. He searched frantically for the trail to lead him to the hidden escape ship the elders had hidden away. He skid to a stop as he saw the blocked path. Standing tall in front of him was Kozmotis. At first Aster had wanted to crow in relief but instead scowled. The once bright silver eyes of his friend now glowed orange. His ears dropped, as did his heart. The once great Golden General had become a host for the fearlings. 

He wanted to try and reason with Koz, to try and talk him down from the madness raging within him, but it was a futile hope. Koz dashed forward and swiped at Aster with the scythe he held. The General snarled at him, demanding to know where they hid the Light. He vowed to destroy it and plunge the universe into darkness, starting with the greatest race any world had ever known; for without the shepherds of life, where would hope grow?

Aster dodged, blocking attacks with whatever he could find lying on the ground to throw. A rock here, hand full of mud to the face. It veiled him long enough to rip a thin branch off a tree to use as a staff. The two former allies sparred. Aster deftly landing blows to his enemy’s torso, legs and head. A particularly hard swing to Koz’s knee snapped the joint in two. The man howled in agony as he clutched his leg. His eyes glowed in fury as he roared threats. He swore to find him, he’d track him to the ends of the universe to end his life, and with it any hope for new life in other worlds. His words followed Aster as he raced through the forest. He could still hear the threats as he pried open the door to the ship, quickly settiling and punching the buttons on the panel in front of him. Light flickered on as power flooded the system. He ran his hands over the holographic screen as it appeared, coordinates blinking as he locked them in. The shuttle shook in its takeoff. 

He regretted glancing out the tiny window at his side. His world lay in ruin. Body’s littered the ground, and the fearlings feasted on the dead. Shadows roamed across fields and over bodies of water, destroying whatever they came across. He felt the sting in his eyes as tears tracked down his furry cheeks. He wanted to scream, to cry and curse the Lunarian’s for bringing this purge upon his people. The Pooka had trusted them, and all they received was genocide. Aster wanted to rip the control panel apart in his anguish. The only thought that calmed him was: I still have the Light.

Aster doesn’t remember how long he flew. Just that he eventually landed. As he exited his ship Manny, the Tsar’s son greeted him telepathically. He told him of being the last, but that he still had hope for a better future. How thankful he was that Aster saved the First Light. He begged the Pooka to help shepherd life to grow on the fledgling planet he now stood on. Aster agreed and- .

“Bunny, what’s wrong?”

He jerked from his thoughts as Jack placed a chilly hand on his arm. He smiled down at his mate.

“Nothin’, Snowflake. Just thinkin’ o’ the past.” 

“I know. I could hear those gears grinding when I flew in.” Jack puffed as he carded his fingers through the ruff of his Pooka’s chest. “Help me dry off so we can cuddle. I missed you.” 

The Pooka huffed a laugh and followed his mate to their nest. His memories hurt, no matter how long ago they seemed. But here, with Jack nestled in his arms, he remembered the hope he felt so long ago. The hope for a better future, and he’d finally found it.

End.


End file.
